Poem – Sorry

one thing i don’t need 
is any more apologies 

i got sorry greetin me at my front door 

you can keep yrs 

i don’t know what to do wit em 

they dont open doors 

or bring the sun back 

they dont make me happy 

or get a mornin paper 

didnt nobody stop usin my tears to wash cars 

cuz a sorry 
i am simply tired 

of collectin 

i didnt know 

i was so important toyou 

i’m gonna haveta throw some away 

i cant get to the clothes in my closet 

for alla the sorries 

i’m gonna tack a sign to my door 

leave a message by the phone 

‘if you called 

to say yr sorry 

call somebody 


i dont use em anymore’ 

i let sorry/ didnt meanta/ & how cd i know abt that 

take a walk down a dark & musty street in brooklyn 

i’m gonna do exactly what i want to 

& i wont be sorry for none of it 

letta sorry soothe yr soul/ i’m gonna soothe mine 

you were always inconsistent 

doin somethin & then bein sorry 

beatin my heart to death 

talkin bout you sorry 


i will not call 

i’m not goin to be nice 

i will raise my voice 

& scream & holler 

& break things & race the engine 

& tell all yr secrets bout yrself to yr face 

& i will list in detail everyone of my wonderful lovers 

& their ways 

i will play oliver lake 


& i wont be sorry for none of it 

i loved you on purpose 

i was open on purpose 

i still crave vulnerability & close talk 

& i’m not even sorry bout you bein sorry 

you can carry all the guilt & grime ya wanna 

just dont give it to me 

i cant use another sorry 

next time 

you should admit 

you’re mean/ low-down/ triflin/ & no count straight out 

steada bein sorry alla the time 

enjoy bein yrself

Poem – You are such a Fool

You Are Sucha Foolyou are sucha fool/ i haveta love you 

you decide to give me a poem/ intent on it/ actually 

you pull/ kiss me from 125th to 72nd street/ on 

the east side/ no less 

you are sucha fool/ you gonna give me/ the poet/ 

the poem 

insistin on proletarian images/ we buy okra/ 

3 lbs for $1/ & a pair of 98 cent shoes 

we kiss 

we wrestle 

you make sure at east 110 street/ we have cognac 

no beer all day 

you are sucha fool/ you fall over my day like 

a wash of azure 

you take my tongue outta my mouth/ 

make me say foolish things 

you take my tongue outta my mouth/ lay it on yr skin 

like the dew between my legs 

on this the first day of silver balloons 

& lil girl’s braids undone 

friendly savage skulls on bikes/ wish me good-day 

you speak spanish like a german & ask puerto rican 

market men on lexington if they are foreigners 

oh you are sucha fool/ i cant help but love you 

maybe it was something in the air 

our memories 

our first walk 

our first… 

yes/ alla that 

where you poured wine down my throat in rooms 

poets i dreamed abt seduced sound & made history/ 

you make me feel like a cheetah 

a gazelle/ something fast & beautiful 

you make me remember my animal sounds/ 

so while i am an antelope 

ocelot & serpent speaking in tongues 

my body loosens for/ you 

you decide to give me the poem 

you wet yr fingers/ lay it to my lips 

that i might write some more abt you/ 

how you come into me 

the way the blues jumps outta b.b.king/ how 

david murray assaults a moon & takes her home/ 

like dyanne harvey invades the wind 

oh you/ you are sucha fool/ 

you want me to write some more abt you 

how you come into me like a rollercoaster in a 

dip that swings 

leaving me shattered/ glistening/ rich/ screeching 

& fully clothed 

you set me up to fall into yr dreams 

like the sub-saharan animal i am/ in all this heat 

wanting to be still 

to be still with you 

in the shadows 

all those buildings 

all those people/ celebrating/ sunlight & love/ you 

you are sucha fool/ you spend all day piling up images 

locations/ morsels of daydreams/ to give me a poem 

just smile/ i’ll get it

Poem – My Father Is A Retired Magician


my father is a retired magician 

which accounts for my irregular behavior 

everythin comes outta magic hats 

or bottles wit no bottoms & parakeets 

are as easy to get as a couple a rabbits 

or 3 fifty cent pieces/ 1958 
my daddy retired from magic & took 

up another trade cuz this friend of mine 

from the 3rd grade asked to be made white 

on the spot 
what cd any self-respectin colored american magician 

do wit such a outlandish request/ cept 

put all them razzamatazz hocus pocus zippity-do-dah 

thingamajigs away cuz 

colored chirren believin in magic 

waz becomin politically dangerous for the race 

& waznt nobody gonna be made white 

on the spot just 

from a clap of my daddy’s hands 
& the reason i’m so peculiar’s 

cuz i been studyin up on my daddy’s technique 

& everythin i do is magic these days 

& it’s very colored 

very now you see it/ now you 

dont mess wit me 

i come from a family of retired 

sorcerers/ active houngans & pennyante fortune tellers 

wit 41 million spirits critturs & celestial bodies 

on our side 

i’ll listen to yr problems 

help wit yr career yr lover yr wanderin spouse 

make yr grandma’s stay in heaven more gratifyin 

ease yr mother thru menopause & show yr son 

how to clean his room 
YES YES YES 3 wishes is all you get 

scarlet ribbons for yr hair 

benwa balls via hong kong 

a miniature of machu picchu 
all things are possible 

but aint no colored magician in her right mind 

gonna make you white 

i mean 

this is blk magic 

you lookin at 

& i’m fixin you up good/ fixin you up good n colored 

& you gonna be colored all yr life 

& you gonna love it/ bein colored/ all yr life/ colored & love it 

love it/ bein colored/ 

Spell #7 from Upnorth-Outwest Geechee Jibara Quik Magic Trance Manual for Technologically Stressed Third World People